20. Will
Chapter twenty
Will
M aureen sat up taller and folded her hands primly on her lap. “Okay, I’m ready. Tell me.”
I coughed dramatically, straightening my spine against the headboard. “After all this time, you finally want to hear?”
“Are you planning to make this difficult?” Her voice teased as she shifted in her seat. “It’s not like whatever your big reveal is won’t be a total letdown anyway.” She raised her hand to her mouth and yawned exaggeratedly.
“Ouch.” I laughed. “Bored already? Maybe I shouldn’t bother then.”
“Seriously—” She slapped me lightly on the arm. “You’ve been begging me for a year to let you have your say .” Her fingers crunched into air quotes. “Now I’m ready to listen, and you want to play around?”
“I enjoy playing with you. It’s been my favorite activity the past few days.” My mind immediately went to the shower, and I assumed hers did as well since her neck flushed and a swallow worked its way down her throat.
As much as I wanted to explain things to her, I didn’t want our conversation to be how it would have been if we’d had it months ago. Or even three days ago. A somber mood didn’t feel right for this discussion. Not anymore.
I kept playing.
Clapping my hands in front of me, I blew out a breath. “Are you certain you’re ready to hear? I just want to make doubly sure—”
“Will—”
“I mean, you’ve been so adamant.” I couldn’t stop myself from grinning.
She huffed. “Just tell me, jackass.”
“So, so adamant.” I cleared my throat again and inhaled deeply, practically hyperventilating.
“I swear to god, if you take one more big, dramatic breath without actually telling me anything, I’m gonna hurt you.”
“But, Maureen…the suspense .”
“You know, I bet recently concussed people are much easier to smother.” She grabbed a small decorative pillow near the foot of the bed. It had a picture of Will Ferrell’s face as Buddy the Elf on it.
“Alright, alright.” I held my hands up. “But it’s going to take a minute to get the whole thing out, so you need to promise to listen to all of it before you attack me with the goose down.”
“Pretty sure it’s cotton batting, but I’ll do my best.” Maureen smiled, but her white-knuckling of the pillow said something different.
I turned my head to face her directly.
“There’s part of it that has to do with everything leading up to my accident and its aftermath—the stuff I told you and James and Marley yesterday—but truthfully, I barely scratched the surface. Between the two of us, I want to say all of it. I want you to understand.”
The last traces of levity left her face. “Okay.”
“It’s probably easiest if I start by expanding on what you already know. Putting things in context. Starting with how it was for me in high school.”
“You mean how you and James struggled?”
“We were bullied, Maureen. That’s the right word. I know it might seem strange now that you know us as grown adults, but you have to picture me as the short, skinny, kinda-goth, kinda-emo teenager I was. It just didn’t fly at Seattle Elite. James wrestled with being the shy, chubby kid, but I was always the mouthy little punk who defended us both.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, James told us about some of the shit you pulled. Like when you knew one of the jock kids was copying off you, you deliberately bombed a test so he would too.”
“Oh man, I forgot about that one.” The memory came back to me, and I stifled a laugh. “I think the reason I fought back more than James is that I had a different relationship with our classmates. You remember I told you I worked at Wallingford Capital? Well, it’s actually my family’s company. My grandfather founded it. So I knew those rich kids my whole life. Our parents did business together, golfed at the same clubs, attended charity functions. You can guess the rest. James didn’t show up until freshman year, and his family was different. Working class.”
“At least you had him for high school.”
“You have no idea. It made those days a little better. But at home, it was still tough.”
“Tough?”
“You could probably imagine I wasn’t the kid my parents had envisioned for themselves. They never had a second child, and I grew up feeling like a constant disappointment. Not athletic, or brainy, or social. When I was little, they took me with them to all their events and tried to make playmates out of their friends’ and colleagues’ children, but eventually, they gave up. I embarrassed them.”
Maureen startled. “They said that?”
“No. Not outright. I felt it, though. To give them their due, they tried. This time of year always reminds me. They were away a lot while I was growing up, but always made time for Christmas. It’s one reason I like the season so much. But even the rest of the year, when I had nannies and later housekeepers, they called and talked to me a lot. Asked how I was doing. I never doubted they loved me, even though I knew they were… confused by me. When it became clear I wouldn’t be a country club brat, they gave me art supplies and video games and tried to make me happy. I’m pretty sure they knew what was going on at school—that the kids their friends bragged about made my life a living hell—but they didn’t know how to help.
“Every month or two, one of them would come into my room with some great new idea. ‘Why don’t you try the debate club, William? That could be fun’ or ‘Eloise Murphy told me her daughter still needs a date to prom.’ My father offered to pay for private coaches so I could ‘consider joining lacrosse.’ They refused to see I would have sucked at debate. I could barely keep my grades up as it was. Eloise’s daughter—Adelyn—would have died laughing if I asked her to a dance.”
“And lacrosse?”
I waved my hands a little. “Um…yay sportsball?”
She giggled before covering it with a cough, taking a sip of her tea. “It must have been rough, having them keep pushing you to try things they knew you weren’t into. I’m glad my mom supported my purple hair and kept me stocked with fashion magazines.”
“I bet you looked cute with purple hair.” I smiled, picturing it. “That’s what I mean by wanting to put it in context. I told you yesterday I’d been acting out before my accident. But it wasn’t just that I was being rebellious. I was in pain. For years, I felt like a shit person. A disappointment. An embarrassment. My parents didn’t know what to do with me. And not that I needed them to compliment me on my art—although that would have been nice—it was just this empty feeling that came from knowing the people who loved me most in the world didn’t really like me.”
“Oh, Will—” She slid off the chair to sit next to me on the mattress. I scooted against the wall to put a few inches of space between our sides.
“After graduation, I told my parents I wanted to take a gap year, that I needed a break. I thought I could reinvent myself and figure out what came next. I focused on my art and spent my days busing tables, dismissing my parents’ offer of a cushy internship at Wallingford. At my job, I met Riley. I started calling myself Billy, as though a fresh name could help me be a different version of myself. A version I could like, even if my parents never would. I’d hit a fuck everything and everyone stage.”
Maureen looked at me. “You were Billy when I met you.”
I shook my head sadly. “No. I was William when I met you. I stopped being Billy when I lost my fingers.” Splaying the digits of my right hand on the bedspread, I invited her gaze to linger on them. “On the road, there was a piece of glass. Sliced them right off.” I shuddered, thinking about the pain I’d felt then, the only real pain from that night I could remember. “Somehow, I had enough adrenaline coursing through my system to stay conscious for a few minutes, enough to crawl to the fallen bike. I’ve been told the noises coming out of me didn’t sound human. Woke up the neighborhood. One witness told police he would never forget the sounds I made before I passed out, as long as he lived.”
Maureen smiled wanly. She ran her fingers along my scars. “Now I can’t stop picturing you making, like, wolf howls or something.”
I choked out a laugh. “When I woke up from the coma, I kept waiting for my parents to show me those disappointed faces they’d perfected during my childhood. But they never did. On the night before I left the hospital, they came into my room and sat down next to me. They told me how much they loved me, and how worried they were something truly bad was going to happen to me. Not just with the accident, but because of the choices I’d been making beforehand. They seemed petrified.”
“I’m sure they were. I used to get scared whenever Marley or Miranda had a cold. I can’t even fathom worrying about brain damage.”
“Exactly. Which is why something flipped in me that day. Being Billy, the free-flowing artist, hadn’t served me any better than being Will, the angry high schooler. I was so tired, and I felt like I owed my parents so much, that I surrendered to the idea of doing things their way. I figured I should stop fighting it and just be William, the finance robot. It wasn’t like the alternative made me happy, so at least with that, I could make them happy.
“For a long time, I lived as the William my parents wanted me to be. Convinced myself that going through the motions of a life was the same thing as living one. I went to college, graduated early, got my MBA, and started working at Wallingford. I began dating Rosalyn, who also worked there. She was someone my parents wholeheartedly approved of.”
Maureen squirmed at the mention of Roz, and I put my hand on her leg.
“I was never in love with her. I was sleepwalking through my existence at that point. In a way, it was unfair to her, but deep down, I think she knew, and the way I functioned worked for her. It was steady. It was good for business. Where it all went sideways was when my parents started hinting about marriage. Rosalyn lives to please them and started pushing for it. Not because we had an undying love for each other. More like she wanted to bring our partnership to its inevitable next level.”
Maureen settled back against the headboard, although her expression remained tight.
I squeezed her thigh reassuringly before continuing, “Another important piece of context is that, through those years, I also went to therapy. At first, it was just physical rehabilitation and occupational therapy, but eventually, my physical therapist convinced me to see a psychotherapist about my mental trauma from the accident, about how numb I’d grown. I was waking up to what my life had become, realizing that I didn’t want to live for my parents, no matter how grateful I was for what they’d done for me. I didn’t owe them all my choices.
“One day, five years ago, Rosalyn and I had another fight about marriage. I’d been putting it off for months since she’d initially brought it up, and she basically demanded an engagement. She accused me of stringing her along, not being a good son, being indecisive—basically whatever buttons she could think of to get me to feel guilty and see things her way. I knew I needed to break up with her, but I didn’t want to do it in the middle of this huge argument. So, I told her we’d talk about it the next day. I needed some fresh air, so I took a walk…” I gave Maureen a meaningful look, knowing she’d make the connection.
“And ended up at Musicbox,” she finished.
I nodded. “I wish I could say I had a legitimate reason for ghosting you after our night together, that me being engaged was a misunderstanding. But I don’t want to lie. On the night we met, I was in a serious relationship with Rosalyn, and most of the world knew me as William, an executive at Wallingford Capital.”
Letting that information sit in the air for a minute, I watched as Maureen exhaled, sending the hair framing her face sideways. “Okay.” Her voice caught.
“I was standing by myself, and then you were there, laughing with your friend and lip-synching to the Christmas music. Seeing you—” I closed my eyes, remembering the way I’d felt at that moment. “It was like the universe opened a crack and let in colors I forgot existed. I tried to fight it, tried walking away, but I know you felt it too—that lightning bolt. And then when you took down that guy who tried to pull you at the bar, I couldn’t deny myself the chance to meet you. It was selfish, and I should have been honest about my situation, but I didn’t want the dream to end. I decided to give myself one night to be the person I might have become without the accident. For once, I was Billy, someone artistic and funny, hanging out with a girl I was insanely attracted to, who looked at me like she wanted to eat me, but didn’t put up with my shit when I threw out mixed signals. Until that night, I’d forgotten what it was like to feel a spark inside. And I know I fucked it all up afterward. But that doesn’t mean meeting you didn’t change everything.”
Her face remained unreadable, and I willed her to understand.
“Maureen, it was the best night of my life. You must know that. And when I left you in the early morning, I honestly felt so sure I could make a change. That Roz and I were over. When I said I’d text you, I meant it.”
“Then why didn’t you?” She clenched her fists before folding her arms across her chest. “All you did was send me a pathetic ‘I’m sorry’ way too late.”
“And I’ll never be able to explain how ashamed I am for doing that.”
“Then why did you do it?”
I gulped the thick air. There was no way to make the next part sound good enough to excuse my actions, but it was the truth I had to offer. “When I came in to work the next day, I got the shock of my life when my parents came up to congratulate me on my engagement to Rosalyn. It took me a minute to figure it out, but I realized Rosalyn must have told them we’d gotten engaged the night before. I don’t think she intentionally lied. Throughout our relationship, our disagreements ended with her getting her way, because I rarely cared enough to argue. I honestly believe she interpreted me giving up on our fight that night as agreeing to the engagement, and I never got a chance to speak to her before she told my mother and father. That morning, for the first time, I got the unqualified look of approval from my parents I’d been waiting for my entire life. It was surreal, standing in the center of the office with them and all my coworkers offering their congratulations.
“I’d spent my entire childhood trying to please my parents. I’d been weak and complacent for so long, and I couldn’t change my entire mindset overnight. As powerful as meeting you was, it still took some time to shake myself out of it. I didn’t necessarily mean the ‘I’m sorry’ as an ending. I was spinning. My parents were so happy. So approving . For days, all I could do was revel in it.
“After Roz and I ran into you at the hotel, my head finally dislodged from my ass. I realized what my behavior cost me. It was devastating, knowing I’d destroyed the one thing I would have chosen for myself.”
I paused as my voice grew steely. “By that point, my parents had gotten used to me taking all their advice. Pulling myself out from under their thumb wasn’t easy, but I eventually ended my engagement. I walked away from Wallingford. I began making art again. This past year, I renovated an apartment building. It took time, but it’s like I finally recovered from my accident.
“I’m fully aware that the way I treated you, humiliated you”—I cringed—“was unforgivable, but I hope you know how much you changed me, how meeting you started me on a different path.”
She eyed me neutrally. “You want to know something? Before you told me this, I had pushed to the back of my mind how much you hurt me. It was easy to do that because of how intense everything has been these past few days.”
Damn. Had I just totally shot myself in the foot? Except I’d had no choice but to be honest. There would be no way to move forward without settling this. Otherwise, it would always be there, waiting to strike.
“Is this why you didn’t want us to call your parents and tell them you’re here?” She surprised me with the question.
“Yeah. They worry still. They would assume my life is about to be totally derailed because I slipped on some ice. As you can guess, they were pissed when I left Wallingford and broke my engagement. But it’s been a while since that all went down, and they can see I’m a fully functional adult now, even without their careful guidance. We’ve called a truce these past few years. They’re back to disapproving of most of what I do, but they seem to accept I’m in control.”
She let her arms fall to her sides, turning her face toward me. “Do they still call you William?”
I raised my eyes at her perceptiveness. “They do.”
A powerful sigh escaped her. “Why is it that even when you’re being as honest and transparent with me as you’ve ever been, you’re somehow more complicated than ever?”
“Special talent.”
Maureen’s lip quirked. She reached to twine her hand with mine, resting them between us. “And how do you feel about everything now? Do you feel you’re on the correct path? As Will the apartment owner and maybe artist?”
“I hope so. But being true to myself doesn’t mean a lot if no one sees, right? If no one cares or likes you for who you are. I want someone to look at me and know me, and for me to feel like I’m enough for them.”
“I think everyone wants that.” She lifted our laced fingers to my chest, both of us feeling the rapid beat of my heart. “No matter what happens between us, you are enough. Billy or William or Will. You’re enough.”
“Thank you,” I rasped. “It means everything to hear you say that.”
“Because of our history?”
“Because you’re the person who was with me on the best day of my life…and my most shameful.” I swallowed. “You know me better than anyone.”